I write. I think about writing. I talk about both.
Writing is a thing we do where we take something that exists inside us, turn it into words about people and places that don’t exist, and hope those words make someone else feel some version of that internal thing.
The thing/s that exists inside me.
& I guess that's what this whole story-writing thing is for.
Except nobody tells you how to do that: take the thing you see, feel, notice, understand, and turn it into a story so someone else can too.
So I've spent the last 13 exhilarating and excrutiating years figuring it out.
& now I can't shut up about it.
You're welcome :)
It’s 1:47 a.m., and I’ve now been lying awake for approximately 72 minutes because there it is again. Something for my brain to take a bite of. And chew, and crunch and grind into something that no longer resembles the original thought at all but instead a self-identifying mush that suddenly has me questioning everything I know about who I am as a human being, and therefore about human beings in general.
And there are seven more story ideas. *Le sigh*
Most people seem capable of having a passing thought, acknowledging it briefly, and then continuing on with their lives.
It must be nice. Peaceful. To not accidentally turn tiny moments into full psychological investigations about identity, relationships, expectations, creativity, motherhood, the internet, or whatever strange human pattern my brain has decided needs immediate analysis before I’m apparently allowed to rest again or how to turn every single one of those things into a story because there's no way anyone else will just get this if I say it outright.
Not to mention the fact that I'd love to put 300 pages between me and these ideas because please, don't look at me but also please see me, understand me, get what I get.
It’s 1:47 a.m., and I’ve now been lying awake for approximately 72 minutes because there it is again. Something for my brain to take a bite of. And chew, and crunch and grind into something that no longer resembles the original
thought at all but instead a self-identifying mush that suddenly has me questioning everything I know about who I am as a human being, and therefore about human beings in general.
And there are seven more story ideas. *Le sigh*
Most people seem capable of having a passing thought, acknowledging it briefly, and then continuing on with their lives.
It must be nice. Peaceful. To not accidentally turn tiny moments into full psychological investigations about identity, relationships, expectations, creativity, motherhood, the internet, or whatever strange human pattern my brain has decided needs immediate analysis before I’m apparently allowed to rest again or how to turn every single one of those things into a story because there's no way anyone else will just get this if I say it outright.
Not to mention the fact that I'd love to put 300 pages between me and these ideas because please, don't look at me but also please see me, understand me, get what I get.
May 26, 2026
If you’re wondering why your writing’s flat, you probably didn’t arrive at the word “flat” yourself. To you, it just feels off. Like it’s missing something. Like it’s almost where you want it to be. Like it’s just not landing. Like it’s writing pretending to be writing. And then the interwebs coined the term “flat” […]
May 25, 2026
Once running rampant, now rarely seen outside captivity, the tinkerer is a species teetering on the edge of decimation. Though they used to be found in abundance, their presence has been unknowingly diminished by that of elders claiming the species to be more invasive than functional. Their primary complaints included that of clangs coming from […]
May 20, 2026
There’s a lie a lot of writing advice teaches that if you “show, don’t tell,” then the emotion will come through in your writing. But emotion in writing isn’t something the reader can just witness. It’s something they have to move through. And that’s the biggest problem with most writers’ ability to write feelings. I’m […]
May 19, 2026
There’s a reason “show don’t tell” became writing advice in the first place. The goal was never just to make writing prettier. It was supposed to stop stories from feeling explained. Because when a writer explains everything directly—what the character feels, what the moment means, how the reader should interpret it—the experience becomes strangely lifeless. […]
May 16, 2026
It was never supposed to take an hour. Definitely not 90 whole minutes. Not the fleeting, I-can’t-believe-this-much-time-has-gone-by sort either. The kind that drags.
These are just recent shares from a long list of tabs my brain keeps open. Check out the All Reads page for more.
The questions, experiments, and things I notice while actually writing—before they become polished advice about how writing is supposed to work.
Where the Thinking Happens
The messy thoughts before the polished advice. The second-guessing, experimenting, rewriting, and trying again. Just the things I’ve been thinking about while learning how to write for the reader.
No rules. No schedule. No sales. Just me.
Signed up! Prepare to hear from me...eventually.